


Their Eyes Were Opened

by ObliObla



Series: Obli's Fuckruary 2020 [14]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Blindfolds, Established Relationship, F/M, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22742584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: Tonight, neither of them can watch, neither of them can look at all. Lucifer’s apartment is designed to be looked at; high above Lux, it is always filled with light. The floors are made to reflect, the ceilings to mirror, and Chloe's come to love it—privacy issues notwithstanding. But there’s something to be said about darkness.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Obli's Fuckruary 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619344
Comments: 17
Kudos: 167





	Their Eyes Were Opened

**Author's Note:**

> Day 14! Prompt:Blindfold/Voyeurism (sort of)

Chloe and Lucifer stand on opposite sides of his ridiculously huge bed bedecked in its ridiculously soft, golden sheets. They are naked, and she can’t help tracing the lines of him in the soft city light filtering in through the windows. Can’t help taking in as much of his warm skin and taut muscles as she can before the sight is denied her. For in her hands, she holds a blindfold. And he holds one too.

He is gazing at her as if this temporary blindness might be permanent, almost as he did on the balcony, once, believing he’d never see her again. But there’s too much joy in this moment for sorrow to intrude, and she brushes it away with her hair behind her shoulder, enjoying the helpless way his eyes follow the motion and darken. It makes her feel powerful, makes heat pool between her legs, to see how far she can drive him without even touching him. But tonight isn’t about that.

Tonight, neither of them can watch, neither of them can look at all. Lucifer’s apartment is designed to be looked at; high above Lux, it is always filled with light. The floors are made to reflect, the ceilings to mirror, and she’s come to love it—privacy issues notwithstanding. But there’s something to be said about darkness.

They nod at each other, then pull on the blindfolds and secure them. Simultaneously, they climb onto the bed, their weight dipping the mattress. And, in the center, they meet. Slowed by their lack of vision, they find each other with hands and lips, noses brushing, teeth clacking gently. They do not speak, either. Silence and sightlessness is the game, relearning each other through touch and taste. They stay kneeling for a long moment, the pressure of their hands light, more to test than to titillate. But when her hands return to his face, he takes her carefully by the hip and pulls them down to lie next to each other. 

She kisses his jaw, feeling the tension there loosen as he trails his hands down her body, gently cupping her breasts. She arches into the contact and returns to his lips, tasting the strawberries and wine and chocolate they had earlier. She’s never been much for Valentine’s Day, but Lucifer can spin pleasure from anything, no matter how kitschy, and she’s learning from him to take her indulgences where she can. She loses herself in running her tongue over his teeth, in sucking on his tongue, in biting his lower lip until he groans. He pinches her nipples, and she pulls away, gasping.

Normally, she would simply ask for what she wants; it took months for her to feel comfortable with it, but now she knows she can ask for anything and he’ll gladly provide. But tonight, no words, no eyes, so instead she catches at his wrist, dragging his hand over her stomach, then back up to brush her throat. He takes her meaning and runs his fingertips up to cup her jaw, to deepen the kiss for a moment before withdrawing. Then down, down to brush the short-trimmed hair between her legs, skirting down her thigh instead of where she’s aching for him.

Her hands aren’t idle, either, thumbing his nipples, scratching down his stomach. Playing her fingertips along the trail of hair that extends down past his navel until he hums into her mouth. It is slow, and it is easy, and there’s no urgency to their motions, though she can feel the heat of his hard cock against her hip when she leans closer to press an open mouthed kiss to his throat, to lick and bite her way to where neck meets shoulder to suck a bruise into his skin. 

He nips at her earlobe in retaliation and rests there, simply breathing heat over her neck. She shivers and pulls herself closer, slipping her leg in between his. He slides an arm underneath her and abandons her front to run his fingertips down her spine, to massage at her ass until her hips press even closer. She rests her forehead against his shoulder and lets her focus on his actions dissipate, allowing herself to simple feel. She glides her ankle over his calf, drags her fingertips over his ribcage, undulates her body to press her breasts and belly against his warm skin.

He kisses her hair, breath hitching. She hooks her leg over his hip, and they are so close it would hardly take a moment to line him up, to let him sink into her. And she’ll be glad to do that later, to do  _ everything _ later. But for now she’s content with careful touches and half-halting moans. The dark from the blindfold and the quiet of their silence lulls her into something like a light doze, though she’s still active—sucking idly on his nipple, rubbing circles into his hip bone.

He grows bolder, though still so much slower than their ordinary pace. He traces her inner thighs, and she exhales slowly. He teases at her curls, and she rolls her hips involuntarily into him. His hand climbs over belly and breasts and throat, thumb tracing her bottom lip before he shifts against the sheets, arcing his body further away from her. She whines at the loss of contact, but he soothes the withdrawal with a brief kiss that starts on her cheek before he finds her mouth. His lips trail down her chin, her throat—diverting to give her a matching hickey to the one she gave him—before settling between her breasts.

She reaches overhead and drags down a pillow to prop her head onto as he licks and bites and sucks. The pressure builds slowly inside of her, and she drifts, for a time. She rouses from her daze when his tongue circles her naval, trailing even further down, and a word gets caught in her throat that she lets turn into a long, joyful moan.

_ Yes. _

He quite obviously doesn’t need his eyes for  _ this. _ If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d pulled off the blindfold just to not betray his high personal standards. But when she reaches down to tangle her fingers in his hair, she can feel the edge of the fabric still securely in place.

_ “Oh,” _ she whispers as he laps at the pool of arousal that has collected. He licks careful circles into her, first deeper and deeper, then shallow again, but wider, wider, until he’s brushing her clit with every slow motion. She turns her head and buries her face into the pillow, sighing. He lines the bridge of his nose up to press gently against her as he slides his tongue further inside. He groans, at her wetness or her heat or the way her muscles helplessly tremble she doesn’t know and doesn’t care. The vibrations of it spark against her nerves, and she slips her leg over his shoulder to give him more room.

She can feel his frustration at the angle, and she tugs at his hair, encouraging him up. He breaks away with a whine, but before he can move further, she turns onto her back and taps at his shoulder. His hand comes up, a questioning hesitance in the motion, and she grabs his wrist again. She shows him where she now lies and guides him to kneel between her legs and again press his mouth there. He leads her inexorably to the edge with lips and teeth and tongue until her hands are clenching in the sheets at her sides, her hips rising into his motions.

But then he slows again and pulls away to kiss the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, sucking at the join of leg and hip. She kicks her legs in frustration, and he catches them, chuckling darkly. Though he doesn’t comment, simply returns to teasing her, thumb brushing her clit until her back arches. He slips two fingers inside and crooks them, stroking her g-spot as his tongue returns to kiss and suckle her clit. He brings her back to the edge, and she locks her ankles behind his back. But he pulls away again, unimpeded by her attempts to keep him still.

“Come  _ on,” _ she mutters, and he tsks.

“Shh,” he whispers, kissing the curve of her belly with wet lips. He strokes a hand down her side until she calms, flattening her palms against cool sateen.

He brings her up only to let her fall, but always,  _ always _ catches her. Slowly her annoyance turns to desperation then to a needy wordless pleading. But only when she slumps back to the mattress, accepting whatever touch he chooses to give, does he carry her over the edge, licking her through the aftershocks.

She breathes slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth, relaxing in this moment of total understanding. He crawls up her body, kissing as he goes, until he presses his mouth against hers. She tastes herself, sour and salt, on his lips and tongue, and cups his cheeks to deepen the kiss. His cock falls against her thigh, and the feeling invigorates her.

She pulls away from the kiss and presses her palm against the center of his chest until he takes her meaning, rolling off of her. She follows him, careful with her knee placement, and works her way down his body as he did hers. She kisses his chin, mouths at his chest, licks his stomach until the muscles clench under her tongue. She traces the hollow of his hip bone down to suck on the patch of skin above his cock, waiting until he cries out.

She repositions herself between his legs, pulls her hair behind her back, and leans forward to take him into her mouth. She licks the pre-come from him, and he reaches for her, not controlling, not even guiding, simply trying to ground himself against the sudden pleasure. She sucks on his head and runs her thumb down the underside. She takes him in a little deeper and a little deeper still until he chokes on a breath. She pauses, feeling the weight of him on her tongue, before pursing her lips around him and swallowing.

“Chloe!” he shouts, and she can hear him clench his jaw against further words.

She cups his balls and rolls them slowly over her palm as she bobs on him, eyes closed behind the blindfold, giving in to the rhythm of his body. His hips jerk ever so slightly—not enough to choke, just enough to inform her movements. As she speeds up, sucking harder and harder, she strokes his shaft with slow, hard motions that cause him to moan on every downward grind. She tightens her grip on his balls, and he whines high in his throat. His hand slips from her hair to her cheek, a wordless warning, but she turns away from it, bearing down as he groans and hisses and comes with slow pulses over her tongue.

She sits back and swallows, massaging her jaw, but he’s there a moment later, helping her work out any tension. He kisses his taste out of her mouth, and she traces the lines of his shoulders and arms until she can entwine their fingers.

They kiss and touch, and it’s like the first time they ever have, maybe like the first time  _ anyone  _ ever has. Maybe the truer garden was made of soft sheets and a gentle sea breeze and  _ trust. _ It begins to rain as they draw each other down from the intensity of climax, a thousand wandering fingertips tapping against the glass behind the headboard. The air smells of salt and ozone and sex, and he is even more responsive under her touch than he normally is.

Without sight, without speech, she can only read him through the trembling of his muscles when she takes him in hand to slowly work him back to hardness. She knows his desires from the whine he makes when she rubs her thumb over the head of his cock. And he knows her in return. Knows her renewed readiness by how her hips shift when he brushes her clit. Feels her responding desires in her throaty moan when he lays her on her back and holds himself over her.

He rocks the head of his cock against her clit, and she sighs, throwing her arms over her head, arching her back. Her nipples brush his chest, and he exhales shakily, pressing into the contact. He works her up to a smaller edge, and when she falls over it, he presses slowly and steadily inside. Her muscles ripple around him, and they groan together, his forehead falling against hers. They breathe into each other’s mouths as he rides her, and she uses the last of her energy to hook her ankles behind his back. The change in angle makes her shake and hiss and…

“I-I need to see you,” she gasps, hands scrambling at her blindfold. “Let me see you.”

“Yes,” he breathes, reaching up to help her pull hers off before, together, they remove his as well. “Oh,  _ Chloe.” _

“Lucifer...” she murmurs, reaching between their shifting bodies to press her thumb against her clit. She rocks into it, into  _ him, _ and soon is moaning with each breath, so close, so close, but he won’t let her fall.

His eyes burn into hers as he slings an arm under her hips, pulling her up into his arms. His movements turn shallow, the friction making her hips buck, but he keeps the contact even as he rises to his knees, holding her against him.

“Ready?” he asks, bracing both hands on her hips.

_ “Please.” _

There is nothing sedate about his motions now, nothing slow or careful or considered. He drives into her with flexing thighs, pulling her down in counterpoint with his thrusts, and it is quick and harsh and  _ perfect. _

She cries out and comes faster than she anticipated, but he keeps moving within her, matching the clenching of her inner muscles with the speed of his thrusts. It drags her over a higher peak, and she shouts, wordless again. But she keeps her eyes open, even as his rhythm accelerates, even as he adjusts the angle to grind against her g-spot, even as he growls and his eyes turn red and he bucks his hips against her, coming with a rush of warmth.

At no point do they break eye contact, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavily into each other’s mouths. And when they pull apart enough to clean each other up, when they fall back to the center of the bed as two bodies wrecked by satiation and joy, they are facing each other, eyes open.

Fully seen.

  
  
  



End file.
